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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28273398">Devotion</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeromeSankara/pseuds/JeromeSankara'>JeromeSankara</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, Corpse Desecration, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Graphic Description, Graphic Description of Corpses, I think I got everything, I'm Serious, Insanity, Last Warning, M/M, Murder, Obsession, Serial Killers, Suicidal Thoughts, Tags Contain Spoilers, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unreliable Narrator, no beta we die like men</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 21:48:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,510</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28273398</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeromeSankara/pseuds/JeromeSankara</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>From the first moment Stephen Strange saw Tony Stark, his entire world shrank down to him. That was the moment that Stephen knew that Tony Stark would be his.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tony Stark/Stephen Strange</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Devotion</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/morphaileffect/gifts">babywarg (morphaileffect)</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So hey you made it! This is actually a Christmas exchange present to the very lovely babywarg! They asked for something dark and to use the prompt witness, and I dug deep in myself and did DARK. This is your absolute last warning to check the tags, or that there will be dark and disturbing things ahead. I swear I'm not insane.</p><p>Merry Christmas &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“When did you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm?” Stephen turned from the sink, water still running and flowing freely down the drain. His hands were still trembling, but that happened. He was used to his own cooldowns by now. Had to, or he’d have driven himself mad years ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tony leaned forward on his chair, setting his elbows on his knees. He fluttered his long eyelashes at Stephen, dark eyes so perfect and like an ocean of chocolate Stephen wanted to drown in. “When did you know I was the one?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His cheeks pinkened, and Stephen looked away. “You really want to know?” Stephen chuckled, focusing on his hands in the sink. Had to make sure they were clean. Just like in class. His palm almost slipped against the soap pump, but he recovered quickly enough. The suds foamed up once more, obscuring his fingers. Every crevasse would be cleaned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stephen tilted his head to one side, letting his thoughts think back to that day. That amazing day. “From the first time I saw you,” he hummed, only to smile when he heard Tony’s exasperated groan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m serious,” Tony complained, leaning his head into his palm and fluttering his lashes again. "When was the first time you saw me?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course Tony hadn't known, not back then. Tony hadn't known Stephen even existed. Stephen stared down into the sink again, to the tinted water running back down the drain. "At the library. You… had a robot you were testing."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"DUM-E!" Tony grinned, jerking upright again. "My baby boy!" Maybe Stephen should go get DUM-E. No reason to keep him and Tony apart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His focus came back to the hands. With one last rinse, he lifted them slowly, letting the water run down his forearms. It was to prevent any bacteria he had missed to run down to the tips of his fingers. Clean. Prepared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grabbing his hand towel, Stephen leaned his back against the sink and dried his hands carefully. He checked for any stains he may have missed, squinting. No reason to be messy now. Not in front of Tony. Never in front of Tony.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The memories of that day were never far from the forefront of his mind. Stephen had been tired, walking out of the campus library from another deep round of studying. His head had been swimming still with proper suture practices, so much so that he hadn't seen the bot running up and down the sidewalk until its arm appendage smacked into his shoulder as it passed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It hadn't hurt, more disrupted than anything else, but it made Stephen pay attention. That was when he saw Tony for the first time. That was when he knew.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was when his entire world had opened up, and he knew that he would make Tony his.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were busy, and I didn’t want to interrupt. After that it was just seeing you on campus, my dorm building is next to yours. I held back for a long time, but I think you started to see me, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did,” Tony said, the grin turning into a gentle smile. “I’d see you looking across the grounds.” Tony leaned back in his chair, resting his head and closing his eyes. He looked so peaceful there, his body limp and relaxed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re probably tired,” Stephen hummed, crossing his room and kneeling in front of Tony. There were still some stains left over on Tony. That just wouldn’t do. Stephen reached out slowly, then ran the towel across Tony’s arm, nice and slow. “I’ll keep you clean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You will,” Tony replied, the smile still on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a few wipes, Stephen stood back up and stared down at the rag. The warm liquid was almost soaking through, and he got it on his hands </span>
  <em>
    <span>again.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “I’m going to hose you down at this rate,” Stephen complained, walking back to his sink. “But I don’t want to drag you outside.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good ol’ fashion wheelchair?” Tony offered, but Stephen was already shaking his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m just going to have to do it by hand,” Stephen sighed, glancing back at Tony. He was still </span>
  <em>
    <span>covered.</span>
  </em>
  <span> And it was almost dry. Better to clean it off now than leave it to deal with later. Stephen turned himself back to the sink and turned on the cold water, running the rag underneath. The water immediately became colored, swirling and swirling down the drain. Already in a couple seconds, Stephen knew that it wasn’t going to wash out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stephen grumbled as he lifted the rag and wrung it dry, then used it to wipe off the droplets that strayed away from the drain. “I’ll need to get more,” he hummed to himself, walking to his bed and kneeling down. He peered beneath the bed before he stared up at the mattress. He still needed a better spot, but it was the easiest and safest one he could think of. While being all too aware that Tony was watching his every move, he pawed open the flap at the bottom of the mattress and stuffed the rag inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were a few other rags that needed to be disposed of, as well as some used and damaged tools, but it could wait. He wanted to spend time with Tony, not trash.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You made a mess out there,” Stephen sighed, staring into the void space before locking the flap back in place. “I’m going to be up all night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I made it interesting, didn’t I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stephen paused, hands still pressed against the bottom of the mattress. His stomach fell, almost out of his body. Yeah, Tony made it interesting. But it didn’t have to be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As if noticing the nerve he hit, Tony stammered to change the subject. “I’ll have to introduce you to Pep and Rhodey. They’re my friends. I think they’d like you.” Stephen pushed himself out from beneath the bed and sat up, his eyes momentarily swirling from the movement. Tony was still smiling, drumming his fingers on the arm of the chair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They don’t like me,” Stephen muttered, his mood dropping even lower. And Stephen didn’t like them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pepper was the one who broke Tony’s heart again and again. Rhodey was the one who dragged Tony along to whatever he wanted, barely caring about Tony’s own wishes. Tony was always with at least one if not both of them, leaving Stephen’s chance to interact practically impossible. It was annoying at the easiest of times, and maddening at the worst.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Those were his bad days.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had needed to make himself seen by Tony. For Tony to witness him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stephen stood up, walking across the room. He still had to check to make sure everything had been properly disposed of. Right now, though, he… didn’t care as much. It wasn’t important anymore. He grabbed another rag off the pile and ran it beneath the faucet. He stared at the water again, then his hands. Still stained.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why did you follow me?” Stephen sighed, scrubbing his hands again. The stains were going to come out eventually. He was always careful to not leave traces on himself. Followed the same process time and time again. Lather thickly, rinse, then lift his hands to let the water run down, leaving his hands clean.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wanted to see you,” Tony answered sweetly, but somewhere deep inside Stephen, he knew that was a lie. Tony had never looked at him, not before today. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stephen turned and stared back at Tony, his shoulders sagging and hands wet. There was still so much to clean up. New clothes would be needed. Tony wouldn’t fit in anything he had. Maybe he’d get a better chair, something more comfortable and rigid. He could see Tony slumping forward just slightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wasn’t ready for you,” Stephen whined, motioning towards the open window that he still needed to wipe clean. A potted plant had nearly fallen victim to being knocked over, one of the few things he could put his focus into. He stared at the blue petals, and felt his heart sink even deeper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Not yet."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was a surprise,” Tony smiled, but it was empty. So empty. Just like the rest. Just like an hour ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He heard Tony before he saw him, and for a second, he wished it was a trick on his mind. But Tony had been very much real as he stood a few feet away, finally his witness, his stupid controller for his stupid project still dangling in his hands. Tony had no reason to go out that night. He did anyway. Someone will find that bot in the morning, or maybe not. Maybe Tony could just disappear to the rest of the world and be held in his.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was no greater pain to know that their first interaction was their last. No time for hello. No time for pleasantries. No time for them to finally connect.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The first thing you ever said to me was ‘It was you,’” Stephen whispered, finally leaning forward and starting again with the rag. He ran it across Tony’s skin, wiping away the blood in gentle strokes. He wanted Tony to look his best for however long Stephen would have him. “The last thing you ever said was ‘I won’t tell.’ I knew you were lying, but I understood. A lot of people thought they could plead their way out."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So many. Too many. He had found that the easiest way had been to silence them, whether to go for the vocal cords or simply the throat. He knew where to aim, it was textbook. A few simple cuts was all it took. Then he could begin his vision.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had only just finished his kill and started cracking open the ribcage when Tony came. Everything had gone so smoothly, his latest affections ready to be displayed and sitting in the bag next to him. Then it was all over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I still almost stopped." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?” Tony asked, head slumped forward and his jaw hanging. With delicacy, Stephen leaned Tony’s head back up and closed his mouth. It fell back open a couple seconds later. “You’d be killed on the spot the second I tell someone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And that would have been fine,” Stephen sighed, turning his attention to Tony’s throat. The shallow slice ran up the side of his neck, bleeding but not fatal. He hadn’t nicked the artery. The slice wouldn’t have happened if Tony hadn’t fought back, which he was well within his right to do so. Maybe he should have let Tony kill him. That might have been a better idea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Damn. He should have thought of that possibility.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then you looked at me. Really looked at me.” It had been the moment Stephen had pinned Tony down, the moment he knew he was about to die. “You looked at me like I was a monster.” The words were quiet as they left his lips, his head dropping down and his vision starting to well up with tears. “I knew you’d never love me. I would never see you again. They would take you away. I had to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That moment would live with him for the rest of his potentially short life. Stephen had memorized every detail. Tony panting, eyes wide, tears starting to run down his cheeks. Stephen had stared into those beautiful dark eyes for what felt like an eternity yet a fraction of a second at the same time. Tony had been afraid. Terrified of </span>
  <em>
    <span>him.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Tony didn’t want to die.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Usually stabbing the heart was boring to him, a quick death with little fun or creativity. This time was different. When he pushed in the blade, he felt Tony’s entire body jerk, his muscles tightening against the intrusion. “I’m sorry,” he had whispered. "Please forgive me." The last words Tony would ever hear. For a few moments, Stephen could feel Tony’s heartbeat. It only beat for a few moments, but for those moments, they beat for </span>
  <em>
    <span>Stephen.</span>
  </em>
  <span> And that had been enough. Tony had died with the knowledge that he had been truly loved, that the gifts had all been left in his honor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stephen had stolen an amazing man from the world who would have done so much good. But there was also the chance that Tony was destined to die, and he was lucky to die by someone who cared, no, </span>
  <em>
    <span>loved</span>
  </em>
  <span> him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tony was going into rigor mortis soon. He had already passed pallor mortis, and his body was cooling. The blood was so prominent against Tony’s pale skin, and while Stephen knew that the sunkissed skin would fade, it was disappointing all the same. It made Stephen hesitate to remove Tony’s clothing. It was only to clean Tony, present him perfectly. Tony had to look his best and death was not allowing an exception this one time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stephen casted his gaze around his room again and stared at his bag overflowing with stolen surgical instruments. The rest of his room was littered with other bags holding whatever he needed. His gifts, his cleaning supplies, changes of clothing…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And the flower, still sitting on his windowsill.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By this point, all adrenaline had faded, leaving him with his thoughts. The ones that screamed that this didn't have to happen. “Why did you follow me, Tony?” Stephen pleaded again, blinking back his tears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tony did not answer him this time. He was quiet. He will stay quiet. Stephen was alone again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hated being alone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stephen leaned back down and rested his cheek against Tony’s cooling thigh. He was losing the energy to go clean up the murder scene, and really, there was no point. This was his finale, his final kill. No longer would the papers scream the Heartbreaker. It… wasn’t the best name. He would have rather been remembered by his name, but he knew it would be a matter of time before they had it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His precise cuts and stitches were going to be the reason he is suspected. Everything he left behind in the bodies would be connected together and point to him. And that’s still okay. Stephen closed his eyes, his mind feeding off of Tony’s presence. Now he had a decision, one he didn’t plan to make so quickly. He had hoped it wouldn’t happen at all, that he and Tony would properly fall in love. But fate had cursed him, so he will follow it to the end.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was the easy suicide. Stephen knew more than enough spots to cut to bleed out. It was probably the best option for the both of them. He could go find Tony, or he would go straight to hell. He didn’t know. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stephen could let himself get caught, which was his original plan. He would have been at peace with himself, and it would be safer for the rest of the world. He would never kill again. Maybe they would sentence him to death. All the possibilities and yet Stephen wasn’t sure if there was one better than the other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The last option…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stephen lifted his head off Tony’s lap. This didn't have to end. To think he would be quenched because he had taken Tony was naive. There was still the memory. Something to leave an imprint.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wanted to leave his mark on the world. He wanted them to know exactly what he was feeling. Let them inside his head, and then they might understand. Even if he is caught, the world would know his name. And maybe he wouldn't be alone again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His name would forever be imprinted besides Tony.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wanted to run away with you,” Stephen said, though his heart was heavy with the knowledge that Tony would never agree so long he was alive. Tony had been destined to die by his hand, but it still felt too soon. Stephen stood and cupped Tony’s chilling cheeks in his hands and leaned forward, resting his forehead against his. He closed his eyes, if just to hold on to his last image of a smiling, bright eyed Tony. Not the one whose face was frozen into one of terror.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you,” Stephen whispered, fully aware that he would never hear them back. And that was okay. All of this was okay. He could properly mourn for a little longer, at the risk of getting caught. It was so tempting. Just a couple more hours. Take his time. But he had to make do with the time he had, ticking away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He crossed the small dorm room that would quickly become littered with yellow tape (he should have tidied it) and walked to the window. The potted plant sat there, innocent and unaware. He picked it up and stared down at the bright blue petals. "At least you were ready," Stephen mused, taking the pot and setting it down beside Tony.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need to do this right,” he sighed, looking back to his sink. The bag was tucked beneath, and had been waiting there for months for this moment. It was still too soon, no matter how much time passed. Standing back straight, Stephen darted back to the sink and ran the water one more time. Clean for Tony. Had to be clean for Tony. He needed to scrub out every stain before he touched purity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Heartbreaker shook off the water and dried his hands. “Okay,” he huffed, picking up his bag. “I’m going to make you beautiful again. I promise.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>A metal door rattled as it opened, the shelf inside cold and unfeeling. The shelf was pulled out, and the wheels still needed oiling. Sterile white light shone down on a white sheet, an attempt at respecting the body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Until a hand pulled the sheet back, pausing and letting it pool down at the lower body. The white light only sharpened the man's features, eyes closed, relaxed. At peace. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This the last one?” a voice said, motioning to the body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Could be,” another voice hesitated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Heartbreaker saved the best for last,” a third confirmed, reaching forward and touching the body for the first time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The chest had been carefully cut open, precise and neat, and organs had been removed. Most were still at the scene of the crime, neatly placed in plastic bags. In their place were flowers. So many flowers. They were artificial, yet they had been painstakingly hand painted to become as realistic as possible. It was unfortunately impressive, a skill that will be wasted. They sprouted from his chest cavity, nearly all of them different species.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do we have a list?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. It’s… long.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A collective groan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The list began. “Aloe, affection and grief, camellia in pink, longing for you, red, you’re the flame to  my heart, carnations in red, grief and aching, pink, I’ll never forget you, roses, honeysuckle, clover, fern, you get the point. That is for the visible ones.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Each person stared at the body, then to the explosion of colors and flowers bursting out of the chest. “Fucking dramatic,” one muttered, snapping on gloves. “C’mon, he’s probably left a present.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The victims thought to be connected to the killer had started with simple items tucked where the heart would be, stitched and sealed inside. The first was a cheeseburger still wrapped in plastic. The next, a screwdriver with a small bottle of engine oil. Then the flowers started appearing with them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aviator sunglasses. A used oily rag. A coffee mug. An unknown controller. All surrounded by more and more flowers bursting out the chest, no longer hidden. They were messages, each flower representing some sort of longing and pain, messages no one could fit together properly until it was too late. Now there was one more body to search, one more gift to find.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With carefulness, each flower was placed on a tray to be dusted for prints later, even when the authorities already had a person of interest to track down. The more evidence, the better, and the killer can be locked away. It was when they cleared the cavity that they found something tucked inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Where the heart should be sat a ball. Clear, thankfully, so they wouldn’t have to worry about an explosive waiting inside. Reaching inside, one picked up the ball and held it up to the light.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A lily-like flower, bright blue. It was curled inside, and judging by the wilt, this was a real plant. It already was starting to die.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m guessing sex,” one piped up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s been no semen or saliva on any of the bodies.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This was probably his ‘boyfriend’, so-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alstroemeria. Devotion.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man lowered the ball, staring at the flower. With care, he popped the top off the ball and nudged the flower out and onto a tray. Petals fell in the process, some left behind, some scattered across the tray. “Heart wasn’t with the organs,” someone said uneasily. The man nodded and turned away. The original signature.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This will be the last one.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thousands of miles away, a man is scrubbing his hands in a sink.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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